


Close Watch (On This Heart Of Mine)

by superscavenger



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, In the middle of fluff and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superscavenger/pseuds/superscavenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Beca gets back to her hotel after an unforgiving day, she switches on her music. But somebody can't help but listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Watch (On This Heart Of Mine)

You fling your bag onto your large queen size bed, puffing a breath out of your cheeks and collapsing into the chair.

Reasoning with techno stars is probably one of your least favourite jobs in the world.

Your head is full to the brim with different hard beats throbbing around your skull, and they’re all too mixed up; you can’t think straight.

You need clarity.

You need to just hear something without layers.

Don’t mistake it; you love your music. The beats, the sounds, the sampling, the change in tempo. But sometimes…you just need to appreciate the human voice.

It’s not as if you do this often.

There’s always that one artist that you have no qualms with blasting out; everybody is the same, it’s just the artist that’s different.

Let’s just say it’s been a long day. You put your Macbook down on the small table in the hotel room, pressing play on your favourite artist’s playlist.

You leave your headphones by the television. You want to hear this through the whole room, on the balcony, everywhere.

This one woman, this voice is your guilty pleasure that nobody knows

Chloe Beale is one of the U.S’s biggest country stars. Rocketing to fame on the scene when she was only 17 with an EP, she went through college, graduating with honours before releasing her album.

She’s been huge ever since.

Ten years later, she’s still your favourite artist, even if it’s not your normal genre of music.

You’re in love with her voice, more than any other in this universe.

You’ve never met Chloe Beale, but part of you wishes you could. If her voice is such perfection, you can only begin to dream how amazing she would be in the flesh.

You understand music in a way that not many others do; how to manipulate it so fluidly that it melts people’s ears in the best of ways.

But she just takes a guitar and sings.

And she floors you with one riff.

The opening chords begin to echo through the large hotel room, the string’s sounds bouncing off the walls; it’s a cover, off her first EP, and it’s so raw and beautiful that you’d never get tired of listening to it.

Her voice flows through the computer’s speaker, and it’s liquid gold.

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
I keep my eyes wide open all the time_

You smile as you close your eyes, drinking in the irresistible sound.

_I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
Because you’re mine_

You sing along softly to your favourite part.

_I walk the line_

The guitar keeps going, and you sing along louder to the next parts, making sure not to drown out the voice that sings on the track. You wouldn’t want to waste listening to it with your own voice.

_I find it very, very easy to be true_  
_I find myself alone when each day is through_  
 _Yes I’ll admit, that, I’m a fool for you_  
 _Because you’re mine_  
 _I walk the line_

Your mind wanders through the lyrics. They describe you, somewhat. It’s the end of the day, and you’re alone.

And you’re a goddamn fool for this woman’s vocals.

It almost scares you to think how bad you’d be if you knew her.

_As sure as night is dark and day is light_  
_I keep you on my mind both day and night_  
 _And happiness I've known proves that it's right_  
 _Because you're mine_  
 _I walk the line_

Suddenly you hear a knock on the door.

You don’t let the music continue; it’s not as if it isn’t pleasant for whoever wants to bother you, at 8:30pm in the evening in New Orleans, but you want to listen to it after you’re done.

You open the door, and you can’t quite believe your eyes.

There, standing shyly in front of you with her eyes shining with curiosity, is one Chloe Beale.

It’s strange when you hear her speak, because you were listening to her on your Mac just moments ago.

‘Hey there,’ she says, a chipper edge to her somewhat timid voice.

Your mouth is still a little open, and you snap it back into place, plastering a smile on your confused features.

‘Hi,’ you reply; it’s almost a squeak.

There’s a beat were she bites her lip, unsure what to with herself.

God, she really is stunning in the flesh.

‘I’m really sorry to bother you, it’s just I…I haven’t heard anybody listen to my EP in years. Literally like seven years - I was in my room next to yours, and I just heard it and I thought… I’m sorry, this was stupid, I should just…’

‘No. Don’t go.’

Chloe stops in her tracks, looking back at you from where she’s started to move to.

‘Why not?’

Most people would give their right arm to meet their favourite artist at a signing, maybe get an autograph and give them a drawing.

Yours is in front of you.

You buck up all your courage. You’ve never done anything this spontaneous, but your favourite artist is standing in front of your hotel room door with her legs crossed and her hands stuffed in her pockets like an insatiable gorgeous idiot.  
It’s the most beautiful and endearing thing that you’ve ever sen, and you can’t help yourself.

‘Why would I let one of the most amazing singers, who’s in front of me, in the flesh, walk away from my door to go back into my room and listen to her on a record?’

Her smile is subtle, but blindsiding. It could fuel a million suns.

It slays you.

‘My name’s Beca. At least join me for a drink,’ you continue, stepping aside from the threshold and holding the door open with your left hand.

Her smile fades from her mouth, but it stays in her striking blue eyes. She doesn’t take them away from yours until she’s crossing your path, sweeping them across your large room.

You let out a small breath quietly, and walk past her slowly to the minibar. Brushing her arm with your own as you pass her, you can feel her shiver at your touch.

You shiver too, and it’s a wonder you can keep your eyes off her.

You pour two drinks, and hold one out to her.

She takes it, and as your fingers brush against each other her eyes bore into yours, and you’re drowning and it’s better than you ever imagined it could be.

‘So you like my music?’

She sits on the bed carefully, the mattress only dipping slightly as she situates herself comfortably, crossing her legs.

You bite your lip for a second before you answer.

‘You’re actually my favourite singer, as it happens,’ you say with as much confidence as you can muster. ‘It’s not my usual taste, I have to say, but your voice has always been wonderful to me. You match pitch brilliantly and your voice always flows so well.’

‘Thank you, so, so much. You don’t have any idea what that means to me,’ she says, smiling with a sincere edge to it.

‘Actually, I think maybe I do,’ you reply, and she narrows her eyes a little. ‘I’m a music producer. If I…if I get complimented for my work, sometimes it’s hard to compute but the times it’s happened I’ve always felt it means that what I do is worth doing. It gives me the incentive to keep going.’

She tilts her head slightly at you, studying you intently with the ceruleans orbs.

You’re feeling a little dizzy looking into them.

‘My music is a lot more…fast paced than your genre. I produce beats, electronic music. There’s a lot of layers. When I listen to you I feel like it’s…like it’s stripped down. To it’s purest form. Not that what I do isn’t pure, but it’s a different feel altogether, and when it’s your music I can’t help but lose myself in it,’ you say slowly, noticing that Chloe hasn’t stopping looking into your eyes the entire time you’ve spoken.

There’s so much tension in the room you can barely breathe.

‘In the ten years that I’ve been singing,’ she begins, still studying you as if you are a work of art, ‘I’ve never met somebody who understand why I sing, why I do what I do so intimately. I want people to let themselves go when they listen to my music. An escape from reality that’s still…raw and real. You get that, and god, it’s so…refreshing.’

‘Your music refreshes my head every day. If I’ve had a long day like today, I just switch on your playlist and let my mind clear. It’s therapeutic.’

She sucks in a little air at that, and gets up, standing just half a metre away from you.

‘Has anyone ever told you that when you speak, your voice is therapeutic?’

‘Not that I can remember. Why would you think that?’

‘Because your voice is like velvet. And I’ll bet you can really sing,’ she says, eyeing the Mac that’s still sitting on the table.

‘Singing isn’t what I do. Mixing is what I do.’

‘I may not have known you five minutes, Beca, but I’d like it…I’d like you to trust me. You seem like the sort of person who could trust, but only if they’re absolutely sure. Could you?’

You don’t know why you breathe out the word yes; it just sort of floats out of your mouth. She makes you weak.

Her red hair glows in the dim light of the hotel’s light bulbs, and her eyes glint from the moonlight pouring through the window.

She walks away from you for a moment, and goes to your Mac. She takes a quick look at the screen and presses play.

As a few riffs play, she takes your hand and pulls you softly, closer to her.

You met her not ten minutes ago and she captivates you.

She knows it’s coming up, and she beckons you to sing.

_You’ve got a way to keep me on your side  
You give me cause for love that I can’t hide_

She harmonises with you, and you can’t lie; you sound incredible together.

She takes your hands, slowly threading her fingers through yours. God, you’re screwed now.

_For you I know I’d even try to turn the tide_  
_Because you’re mine  
I walk the line_

You can’t help but step closer, your chests almost touching, your faces inches away from one another.

_Because you’re mine  
I walk the line_

Her lips look smooth, a light pink and a little plump. They look like heaven.

The last lines of the song just sing for you, and you both can’t keep it at bay anymore.

There’s been an unspoken attraction since the moment you swung the door open.

She’s the one that captures your lips.

_Because you’re mine  
I walk the line_

Her mouth is like velvet and oh god, it's just wonderful.

You're weak at the knees but you just have to hold yourself up because this cannot end.

You feel her hand thread into your hair slowly, savouring each strand and pulling slightly.

Your lips break apart, and for just a small moment, as the guitar fades away, you savour having your foreheads together, your breath mingling and your eyes still closed.

God, you're so fucking lucky right now.

You pull her lip towards her with yours this time, and she pushes towards you with a more feral intensity that drives you insane.

Her tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper quietly, and she moans with you. You can feel her other hand stroking the curve of your hip, going down further and you let your hands that are sitting on her waist come forward a little bit, one lightly stroking her stomach.

You bring the other up to her neck as you keep moving your mouth with hers, and you're flying. You have never felt this alive.

You break apart slowly, and your eyes open to see her hooded eyes staring into yours, that blue flooring you again.

'Would you like to get dinner with me?' She whispers breathlessly, not letting go of you.

You don't really want to let her go either.

'God, yes' you breathe, smiling crookedly as you both let out a breathless chuckle.

'Where's good?' She asks.

'I know a place. Just give a few minutes,' you reply, and you sink into her embrace as you pull her head towards you, stealing her lips for yourself once more because you just can't get enough.

Pays off to unplug your headphones sometimes.


End file.
